Contact: A Prequel
by movieholic
Summary: "Any word from Amanda?" Michael offhandedly asked as he heaved his stocky body into the tight space between Trevor and an unexplainable stuffed giraffe of giant proportions.


**A/N: As the title suggests, this story is a sequel (but based before the events) to my other GTA V fic titled Contact.**

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"Shut the goddamn door, will ya!?" Trevor shouted over the gust of wind that blew in Michael Townley, and a flurry of pure white, freezing snow.

His best friend scowled in reply, but said nothing as he forced his broad shoulder against the flimsy trailer door, and grunted in satisfaction when it finally clicked shut. He stomped his snow-caked boots against the side of the nearest counter, and snatched his woolen cap from his close-cropped hair. He tossed the maroon garment across the enclosed space, and began to shuck his thick bomber jacket.

Trevor, uninterested in Michael's ministrations until now, growled and snapped his fingers repeatedly. "Hurry it up, huh? I can't hear shit over your fucking noise!"

Michael rolled his eyes, and motioned towards the static-ridden television set that was sequestered in the corner of their trailer. "Chill out, T. The volume doesn't even work."

"That's _beside_ the fuckin' point!" Trevor removed his sneakers from the coffee table on which they were propped up on, and turned to show Michael how annoyed he truly was. "So, pipe the fuck down, and let me use my _imagination_." He turned back round and growled, "Fuckin' sanctimonious little shit."

With a heavy sigh, Michael tuned out the rest of Trevor's frustrated grumbling, and went about toeing off his boots and plucking off his gloves. He left the heap of clothing where he stood, strode the few steps to the fridge, and grabbed two beers without having to ask if Trevor wanted one. He _always_ wanted one.

Michael handed the cold bottle to Trevor's outstretched hand, where the other man seized it with a snapped, "Gimme!" and no thanks for the proffered beverage.

"Any word from Amanda?" Michael offhandedly asked as he heaved his stocky body into the tight space between Trevor and an unexplainable stuffed giraffe of giant proportions.

"What?" Trevor leaned forward, his brown eyes never tearing from the screen as he placed his elbows on his knees. "What the fuck are you saying?"

"I said-"

"Not you," Trevor reached around the stuffed animal to shove Michael, and then howled in outrage when the program he was intently watching cut to commercial. "Now I fuckin' missed it! Ah-way to go, Townley!" He bore his wild eyes on Michael's disinterested face, and snarled, "What in the precious, ever-loving fuck was _so_ important that you made me _miss_ whether Trish said yes or no!?"

"Seriously?" Michael's tone was borderline flat, but his heart was starting to pound a little harder against his ribcage. He was in a mood, and it never mixed well when Trevor was acting like, well, Trevor.

The other man's eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned as he leaned forward; giraffe shoved back against the cushions so that he could clearly see Michael. "Oh. Yeah. Seriously." He seized the giraffe by the back of its long neck, and cleanly leapt to his feet to begin smashing the cushioned toy against Michael's face.

Michael put his hands up in defense, but his fingers were still stiff with cold, and his back was awkwardly pressed against the rigid arm of the old sofa. He squeezed his eyes shut against the assault of fuzzies that floated off the distressed toy, and jolted when he felt Trevor's fist slip past the animal and strike his chin. His mouth, having been open to tell Trevor to fuck off, snapped shut and his teeth clicked loudly.

As quickly as it started, the one-sided fight stopped as Trevor gathered the giraffe in his arms, and threw himself back into his seat to watch the show that came back on. Michael worked his jaw from side to side, but was pleased to note that nothing truly felt injured. He glared askance to his running partner, but opted to keep his mouth shut as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"Stop pouting, you baby-faced cunt." Trevor's voice cut through the near silent air. When Michael said nothing, but continued to pointedly stare at the TV screen, Trevor growled huffily in the back of his throat. "Hey, man."

Michael ignored him, but Trevor could see the beginnings of a small smile perking at the end of his lips. Trevor's ire, usually easily inflamed, tapered off a bit at the sight of his best friend's amusement. He rolled his eyes, and pushed himself away from the couch. He shoved the giraffe into Michael's arms. "'Nother beer?" It was more of a demand than a question, and he was answered nevertheless with a conceding nod.

Just as Trevor's hand touched the handle to the refrigerator door, a timid knock resounded off the plastic walls of their trailer. He froze and stared at Michael, who had turned in his seat and looked as equally wide-eyed as he felt. Trevor's hand fell away from the fridge, and to the back of his waistband, where he kept a loaded pistol.

"Expecting anyone, bro?"

"No, T."

Trevor stepped towards the door as Michael stood up, clutching the giraffe by its long neck with his left hand as his right strayed to his hip. He was always armed as well. Their field of work demanded it of them, unless they were ready for a permanent retirement.

The two shared a brief eye contact; no words spared as Trevor threw open the front door and simultaneously pulled his firearm and pointed it in the face of a very scared, very startled Amanda. Trevor angrily turned on his heel, and waved his brandished weapon as he stomped away towards the TV set shouting in his gravelly voice.

"Fuckin', fuck!" he yelled. "Paranoid fuck's. Goddamn it!"

"Mandy, baby!" Michael's eyes brightened when he caught sight of his girlfriend.

"Oh, oh no, big boy." Trevor pointed a grubby finger in Michael's face, and then back at Amanda. "If that's the way it's going to fuckin' be, Mikey, then I'm heading out. Fuck you, Townley." He shoulder-checked Michael as he blew past the two and out into the cold without any warming layers of any kind.

"He's gonna freeze his ass out there," Amanda coolly replied, when she felt that her heart wasn't going to pound out of her chest.

"The guy's a thermal nuclear blast all on his own," Michael said with a shrug. "He doesn't feel the cold." The two looked at one another for a second longer, before Amanda finally stepped into the trailer fully and shut the door behind her.

"Is that for me?" She pointed at Michael's hand.

Michael looked at the stuffed animal dumbly, and then back to her. "Of course, babe." He handed it to her in a less than romantic way, before shifting in his stance uncomfortably. He scratched the back of his shaved head, and craned his neck left and right out of habit. "So, not that it's not great to see you, but what are you doing here? I told you it's dangerous to be seen with us after a heist."

"That was three days ago, Michael." Amanda's rigid posture relaxed somewhat, and she shrugged almost helplessly. "I miss you, asshole."

Michael felt himself physically soften at her tone, and he offered a genuine smile. "C'mere, babe." He held out his arms, and welcomed her lithe body against his own. He nuzzled her neck with his slightly crooked nose, and sighed against her pale skin. "I missed you too."

Amanda pulled away slightly, and looked up at him with her startling blue eyes. "How much, big boy?" Her face held an impish grin.

Michael gathered her arm in his strong arms, causing her to yelp with laughter and drop the giraffe she was holding. "Why don't I just show you, huh, Mrs. Townley?"

She rolled her eyes as he began walking towards the back of the trailer. "I never said yes."

"Not yet," Michael admitted as he kicked open the bedroom door, and placed her on her feet once inside. "But you will." He gave her his most charming, broad smile and began to gently force her back with every step forward he took, until the back of Amanda's hit the edge of the bed and she plopped down with a playful huff.

"Now what?" she asked, looking up at him as she leaned back on her elbows and coyishly fluttered her long lashes. Michael didn't reply, but instead pulled at the back of his shirt until it came off and he chucked it over his shoulder. "And then?"

Michael's grin widened impossibly further as he unfastened and unzipped his worn jeans, then proceeded to tug them off without toppling over. Amanda's giggles were only stifled by the back of her hand as she watched the man's struggles.

"Okay," she lazily dragged out in her Midwestern drawl, "But I still don't understand what your intentions are, Mr. Townley." She pushed herself further up the bed, until her back met the headboard.

Stripped down to his boxers, Michael began to crawl up the bed until he was poised above her. "My intentions, sweetheart, are all but honorable."

Amanda's nose scrunched up as she tried to figure out what he meant, but she was distracted by his lips descending upon her own pursed ones. Eventually, with trembling arms, Michael allowed his weight to settle over her able body as he rested on his forearms instead. She smiled lovingly at him, and eased her slender arms from underneath him and around his thick neck.

He rested his forehead against her own, and closed his eyes. "I want to make love to you," he growled huskily, "But-"

"But Trevor Phillips could barge in at any minute," Amanda finished for him. She pecked his nose, and waited till he opened his eyes before she said, "Take me like the man I would say yes to."

Michael didn't hesitate to pull away from her to remove her shirt, in a frenzy of lust and urgency. She laughed as he fought with her bra before batting his hands away, and reaching for her jeans instead. "No time," she gasped.

"Fuck, Mandy," he groaned as he aided her in removing her pants. He shucked his boxers just as she kicked off her lace panties, and wasted no time in grabbing her by the hips and tugging her towards the center of the bed. He prodded her wet folds with his now throbbing erection, before finally sliding in with a pleasured moan.

The bed creaked and rattled underneath their frenzied rutting; the metal bars of the headboard slamming against the wood paneling of the bedroom walls as Michael pistoned his hips unapologetically in and out of Amanda. It was another few minutes before Michael's soft grunts grew louder and harsher.

The closer he got, the more vocal he became, moaning "Yeah, baby, yeah," as Amanda dug her nails into his back and mewled in response. "That's it- Fuck. Yeah." Michael's orgasm overtook him hard and fast, and he struggled to keep the sated darkness encroaching on his vision from overtaking him completely. He trembled and shook until he couldn't hold his own weight anymore, and collapsed to the side of Amanda's warm body.

"Jesus," he managed to wheeze out. He placed a hand, palm down, on his heaving and sweat-slicked stomach. "Christ, I missed you, Mandy."

She laughed, and curled into his solid body. "I can see that." Her long legs intertwined with his stockier ones, and she winced in near disgust. "You made a mess in me, Michael."

"'M sorry, baby," he mumbled into her thick hair as he struggled to stay awake.

"You will be when I get pregnant," Amanda replied kiddingly as she burrowed her head further into the side of his neck, and relished in the soft tickle of his breath in her hair.

"Yeah," he sleepily snorted. "Can you imagine? Me, a dad?"

Amanda grinned around a yawn. "Fuck no."

The two drifted off, unmindful or uncaring to the creeping cold that permeated the cheap trailer and over their snuggled bodies. Michael wrapped his arms around Amanda's supple body tightly, and smiled. Time ticked away, until the presence of someone else in the room unnerved Michael and made him start awake not long after he fell asleep.

"And _what_, pray tell, in the ever-loving _fuck_ is _this_?"

Trevor was home.

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**The End. **

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